


What A Hero Is

by violetsarefuckingpurple



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Fantasy High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Beating, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt no comfort quite yet, M/M, Rated for swearing, Riz Gukgak is the chosen one, Tags May Change, Talking, This is going to be much longer than I anticipated, a side plot in a journal, an OC for plot's sake that I have now grown attached to, attempts were made but you can't heal trauma in one quick conversation, inner ramblings, misunderstandings/ lying to spare someones feelings, my poor kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21631831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetsarefuckingpurple/pseuds/violetsarefuckingpurple
Summary: “Stupid to ask if you’re ok, right?” Riz spoke quietly, barely flicking his eyes over to Fabian to signal who he was speaking to, and his voice rasped like salt water and dying cinders over a bed of nails. For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Fabian felt like crying.On the way to the library. Fabian and Riz have a little chat, and Fabian thinks an awful lot about what actually makes a hero.
Relationships: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Comments: 18
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot, but I did have a lot of feelings in the latest episode (which cause me to have to many ideas and take forever on this) so I might make a little series of moments that either are based on the episode or actually line up with this one. I have ideas, don't worry. But for now this is definitely a "can be read alone" "unhappy ending" situation. You have been warned. But please do read anyway.

Somber didn’t begin to describe the mood in the van as the party trundled through Leviathan towards to Crows’ Keep library. Ragh was still sniffling loudly, though he was trying to hide it; Kristen was rubbing soothing circles into his arm as he did so. She looked tired. They all did. Her hair was almost entirely free from its usual ponytail and hung bedraggled and sweat stiff around her pale face. Next to Ragh, however, she looked like a ball of fucking sunshine. He looked terrible, well and truly terrible, face twisted into an expression of such pathetic agony that Fabian could not bare to even look at him.  _ (Another face almost as heartbroken, Alastair Ashe prostrate at Captain James’ feet as Fabian betrayed him and ran like a coward to leave him to die.)  _

Fabian brushed away Cathilda and her persistent fussing over him. He didn’t deserve it, any of it, his friends gentle concern when he had been so stupid, so cowerdly, gotten twenty men to believe in him and then die for him (for nothing), and put all his friends in danger, kept them awake and fighting until they were all to exhausted and weak to do much of anything. Ragh’s mom was in danger because of him, because he weakened the party too badly for them to protect against The Nightmare King and the Shadow Cat.  _ All _ of this, was his fault.

Fabian had been doing a damn good job of avoiding eye contact with everyone, letting his guilt wash over him like that black-black ocean, but he couldn’t avoid Riz. The van thumped over a particularly bumpy place in the wooden planking, and his eye caught on the goblin’s profile not quite in front of him. Riz was staring straight ahead, looking suddenly very old for fifteen. His eyes were swollen with dark circles and his jaw was set in a stubborn line, all defeat but refusal to surrender. He looked like a man watching the world and every person or thing he had ever loved in it burn, and being forced to plan even as it happened how to rebuild it. The effect was made even worse by the tension in his shoulders, the slight tremble in his fingers, like he believed he had struck the match. He was also, Fabian noticed, not looking at Ragh.

Fabian thought he and Riz probably looked exactly the same in that moment, taking the blame upon their shoulders and watching the world crumble to ash around them. The only differences were that it actually was Fabian’s fault -- because he knew whatever had happened Riz could not have really been responsible for the fate of Ragh’s mother -- and also whereas Fabian had long since snapped in half and broken beyond repair in the grasp of the flames, Riz was sitting strong and determined like a sword being beaten only sharper with the adversity. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still hurting from it though, and that was Fabian’s fault too. Riz was suffering because of him, because he hadn’t been there, he hadn’t helped, he had only made everything worse. 

“Stupid to ask if you’re ok, right?” Riz spoke quietly, barely flicking his eyes over to Fabian to signal who he was speaking to, and his voice rasped like salt water and dying cinders over a bed of nails. For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Fabian felt like crying. Here was Riz, after what had to have been  _ unimaginable _ psychological torture to have forced  _ him  _ of all people to give up a witness and innocent mother, and he was asking if fucking Fabian -- who had screwed  _ everything  _ up -- if he was ok. It wasn’t fair. Fabian didn’t deserve a single word from anyone ever again, let alone  _ concern _ from the best, most fucking selfless and brave (and compassionate, and intelligent, and friendly, and just fucking good) person he knew. He remembered the sting of distaste and a damaged ego that he had felt when retelling the tale of his adventures last year. In it, he had realized, Riz had ended up being so much more of a hero than him. For a moment he had felt a fiery jealousy in his chest, because why did The Ball have to get the final blow in? Why did The Ball have to be the one that won the glory of the biggest battle of Fabian’s life when he didn’t even care about it anyway? 

Fabian knew the answer now. And he felt ashamed of the questions almost as much as their consequential actions. It was because, simply, of this -- Fabian was an egotistical rich boy, son of a much greater father, and ultimately nothing but fancy words and a pretty face (marred now with a scar that’s ugly surface no longer deserved the luxury of even being covered by his father’s eyepatch), and Riz… was a hero. If those warlocks had placed their faith in Riz instead of him they would have still been alive now. If Fabian hadn’t wanted to prove himself so badly, Riz (good, brave, hero Riz) would never have been  _ tortured _ , would never have been pushed to the point where even his selfless integrity crumbled and Ragh’s name was slipped from his lips. Guilt had long since replaced any oxygen in Fabian’s lungs. He was numb and stiff with cold, but his skin felt hot and damp, and he was pretty sure he would never breathe normally again, his chest would always just strangle his lungs like a vice of frost and regret and fire.

Fabian’s silence must have been reply enough to Riz’s query, because the small goblin boy sighed, and scooted back into the seat so his face was more level with Fabian’s. For a moment he tipped his head back against his seat and closed his eyes. Fabian did not deserve to let his gaze linger on the curve of his green throat as he did so, nor did he deserve to study the strong jut of Riz’s jaw, but he did anyway, nauseous with self-disgust as he did so. When Riz opened his eyes, they were lidded and heavy, but laser focused on Fabian. 

“Ok,” Riz said, grimmly diplomatic, “Let’s not pull the ‘there is nothing you could have done’ shit right now. You fucked up.” It felt like a stab to Fabian’s very heart  _ (his father grinning one last time, blood and an explosion and the rumble of an engine beneath his feet)  _ even though he knew the words were true. To hear  _ Riz _ say them hurt in a way so deeply imbedded in his chest that he thought he might actually die from it.

“No,” Riz said “Let me fucking finish. You fucked up. I fucked up. We all fucked up today.  _ Sandra Lynn  _ fucked up, and she’s supposed to be the goddamn adult around here. And don’t think I’m gonna sit here and try to fucking claim that it’s ok because we’re just kids, because it’s not. We lose the right to be ‘just kids’ the moment our actions affect the life of someone else. But we are just people. And people fuck up sometimes. I- we- Just… we all fucked up today. Don’t- don’t just blame yourself and wallow, admit you fucked up and make it a reason to try and make everything else a little less fucked.” Fabian wanted to protest, argue that Sandra Lynn cheating on Jawbone was hardly the same thing as leading twenty men to their fucking deaths, but Riz’s gaze was firm and unflinching, earnest in a way Fabian’s could never be. And it was kinda wild, Fabian thought, that people could look at him and see a handsome adventurer and see Riz as nothing more than some scrawny goblin-probably-a-thief, because even exhausted and crusted with dried blood from his tattoos and sweat Riz looked to Fabian, every inch a hero. 

“Ok,” Fabian said, even though he didn’t believe it. Riz had enough on his shoulders without the added burden of Fabian’s shitty mind. There was a beat of silence and then --

“What did she do to you? The Shadow Cat I mean. Did she -- are  _ you  _ ok?” Riz shrugged, a bitter smile twisting his lips upward.

“I mean, like I said, I fucked up. Ragh’s mom… that’s on me. If something happens that’s on me.”

“No it isn’t!” Fabian sat bolt upright, indignant. “Ri- The Ball, you can’t blame yourself for giving in to literal torture.  _ I _ chose to pick a fight with Captain James, you- you didn’t choose any of this. And what if you hadn’t given in, could she have--” killed him? Tortured him to insanity? The very idea of it made Fabian’s stomach roil. 

Riz looked surprised. 

“Fabian what-- what exactly is it you think happened tonight?”

“The Shadow Cat did something to our dreams, made us -- hurt us. T-tortured you for information. I can’t think of anything  _ else _ that would have made you do what’s been done.” Fabian scowled protectively at Riz, almost daring him to say anything else to his detriment. This was Fabian’s fault, not his. Riz winced, and looked away for the first time in this conversation.

“I can,” he said, oh-so-quietly. Fabian waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

“Elaborate?” Riz sighed and seemed to rally himself, straightening his spine and turning back to face Fabian squarely. 

“She didn’t torture me. I wasn’t even asleep; she just… wanted to talk. I mean, she brought up, some not great shit. My dad and how I’m trying to fill- fill the void of him or whatever with mysteries, and how I’m putting everyone else at risk because of it, but that’s not…” and here he trailed off, squinting at Fabian with a very sad little expression he couldn’t quite decipher, “But that was all. She didn’t do anything else. I tried to play her, but I guess I wasn’t smart enough or maybe I got distracted like she wanted or something. I just… slipped. That’s all.” 

What bullshit, Riz never slipped. But Fabian couldn’t figure out a reason for him to lie. He didn’t have the energy to call Riz out on it, nor could he think of an appropriately comforting response to go along with the falsehood, so instead he mumbled a lame--

“We all fucked up today.” and patted Riz’s shoulder. (And tried so damn hard not to linger with his touch, not to sink into Riz sobbing and begging for further closeness. Riz had enough to worry about,  _ he had enough, he had enough, he had enough _ .) Riz pursed his lips into the approximation of a smile at the touch, fleeting and sad and not reaching his eyes, and then turned back to the nothing he was staring at before, jaw set.

_ Pained but strong, pained but strong, that’s the hero’s song _ . Fabian had heard a lot of drunken shanties in his day, but he had always been perplexed by one. It hadn’t really been about pirates, and it had sounded sadder. He hadn’t understood how any song about glory could ever be so very sad, resigned, buried under the weight of a thousand worlds. He understood now. Looking at Riz, tired and aching and jaw  _ still fucking set _ in determination, he knew what a hero was. Because Riz was a hero, and Riz was hurting, but carrying on anyway.  _ “Pained but strong.” “Admit you fucked up and make it a reason to try and make everything else a little less fucked.” _

Fabian stared at the hero’s profile for longer than he would have liked to admit, and wished somewhere deep down, that he could be half the hero Riz was.That by staring long enough he could absorb some small piece of Riz’s good-strong-brave-selfless nature. He couldn’t of course, and even if he could, he didn’t deserve it. 


	2. A Hero is Often Miserable and Beaten to a Pulp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Crow's Keep Library, Riz finds a clue, get's into a fight, and get's a very protective Fabian to save his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you know what I said about a one shot? Forget that. You stick with just chapter one, but I have a lot of ideas now baby, and I think I gotta use them. Will be Canon Divergent in about 24 hours, but is technically canon for now and will continue to be canon universe onward. Also, the journal writing is supposed to be in dancing script, but I dunno how to change font in ao3 so if anyone has that info please inform me so I can make it pretty.

The library was a vast affair of a very tall ceiling and many twisting, precarious looking staircases. Rickety wood planking with gaps in it letting in little streams of pale dawn sunlight served as a reminder that the party had not really gotten any sleep last night. Riz did not think such a reminder was needed. Everyone already knew how exhausted they all were, grumpy and skittish with horribly depleted magic and very little patience left for each other. In fact, a mutual understanding that they were all on edge seemed to be the only thing holding the group together right now; Riz counted seven and a half times that Adaine almost snapped at Fig on their way up the Crow’s Keep, six times Fig almost snapped at Gorgug, four times Kristen almost snapped at Sandra Lynn, and one time… Ragh almost snapped at Riz himself. Personally Riz thought that last one was extremely valid. Ragh needn’t have held his tongue at all. If sacrificing his secret and damning his mother didn’t make Riz deserve a little of Ragh’s hatred, he didn’t know what could. 

“Ok, so we’re here. Magic phone call away, Adaine!” Fig waved her hands with a forced, almost brittle sort of cheer and Riz’s gaze snapped back to the elven oracle in question. A scowl, an aborted motion of the mouth, a cringe, and a sigh. Eight and a half. Adaine stared bleakley up at the endless tower of rotting wood and busted leather around them, and began to climb one staircase seemingly at random, calling out for help and declaring that Garthy O'Brien had sent them as she did so in the hopes that someone would actually show up. The rest of the party followed, and eventually assistance did arrive, their letter was handed over, and they were guided to the magic communication device.

Riz wanted to pay attention -- he really did -- he wanted to know more than anything that Lydia Barkrock was safe and he hadn’t screwed up quite so terribly -- but magic wasn’t really his forte, and Adaine kept shooing him away with a distracted annoyance every time he drifted too close, and he was so fucking tired, and his mind was resolutely fixated on other points of focus today. Points of focus that involved creepy cat ladies and ultimatums, Fabian’s haunting eyes all broken and lost-looking, and the deep black pit in his stomach that promised everything was only going to get worse.

The communication magic was apparently some complicated shit, and after the third failed attempt -- sweat and frustration dripping from Adaine’s brow and shaking fingers -- Riz couldn’t take it anymore. It was stupid to head off alone, they had well established that the night before, but he figured he wasn’t going far -- just around a corner to catch his breath. Being surrounded by the others just then, tensions high and thick like a fortress wall, was making him feel claustrophobic. He patted Fabian’s knee as he left, if only to let someone know he was leaving and let Fabian know that this did not mean he took back what he said before, and hoped with all his might that Fabian would take the hint and not follow him until he was needed (useful) again. Fabian glanced at him, still wearing that awful numb and broken expression, now tinged with something Riz couldn’t quite decipher and hated for it, and nodded silently. Riz took that as acknowledgment enough, and left without further fanfare. 

Riz was not conceited enough to think that what happened next had anything to do with his excellent detective skills. It was pure luck, and maybe fate (or maybe something more sinister) that caused his eye to fall upon one particular book a couple shelves away. He knew this, because there was nothing eye catching about the book, nothing that indicated just how important it’s contents would be, so it really was just fortune’s way and his anxiously idle curiosity that drove him to pluck it from the shelf. 

He was not particularly surprised to find that the insides were hand-written, he supposed typing was not as much of a thing out here with all the pirates and the distinct lack of computers. He was surprised, however, to see that it was not so much a book at all but rather a journal of sorts, small enough to fit comfortably in his hands and filled with a tiny cursive script. It was neat enough to be legible in spite of its cramped nature, and on the inside cover worn with age was embossed a name -- Rosalia Glitterdew. Glitterdew? Like Biz Glitterdew? Suitably intrigued, Riz flipped to the first page and began to read. Thank fuck he did. 

Dear Whatever,

I have decided that in absence of a wall to hang my shit upon, I had best write it somewhere. This will be my where. Some Godly Fucker knows this is going to need recording. We are heading out today. I am… excited but scared shitless as well. I have never even left  Elmville before, let alone headed out into the rest of Spyre beyond Solace. And this is some big league stuff too: finding the fucking Nightmare King’s crown. 

What.  _ What?! _

Hallie says she’s not worried, we’re gonna find it no sweat and beat the shit out of whoever dares stand in our way, but that’s easy for her to say. She is the best sword fighter in the world probably, and I am three feet and four inches of anxiety and conspiracy theories. Honestly, she is my best friend and I love her, but fuck Hallariel Aramais so fucking hard. 

Hallariel Aramais. That had to be Fabian’s mom, right? The name was too much of a freaking coincidence to be otherwise. Riz had sort of assumed that coming to Elmville had been a marriage thing, not a “she had been there before” thing, but here was the journal of some relative of Biz’s referencing her in Elmville before the Nightmare King even joined Kalvaxus! Riz hurriedly scanned the rest of the entry; a little more about quest nerves, some notes about possible locations of the crown, and near the bottom mentioned offhandedly… the name of a contact in Fallinel. Elianwyn Ezorous. Riz could not remember Adaine ever mentioning her mother’s maiden name, but as he read it he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this had to be her. The coincidences were just too much for it to be referring to anyone else. Riz was just about to continue reading onto the next page, when the soft thump of footsteps drew his attention upward. 

Ragh was standing at the opening of the book aisle, shoulder’s shaking and eyes bright with tears. He blinked in surprise at seeing Riz there, probably hadn’t noticed him leave in the first place, and for a moment they just stared at each other. 

“You reading?” Ragh asked, a note of tired accusation just barely tingeing his voice. Riz had been steadfastly avoiding looking at him since the Golden Gardens. He did not like what he saw now that it was right in front of him. Ragh looked  _ ragged _ . That was the only word for it. Like the combination of his grief and fear had ripped his very body to shreds. His eyes were bloodshot with sleeplessness and crying, his hair hung mussed and bedraggled round his face, which suddenly looked much gaunter than Riz remembered it being, pale and practically emaciated. 

“Yeah…” Riz said, because what else  _ could _ he say “I just couldn’t stand being in there anymore.” Immediately, he winced at himself. God, he had no right to talk about  _ his  _ feelings to  _ Ragh _ . Ragh who had only requested one promise this entire fucking journey to keep his mother safe, and Ragh whose mother was now in serious danger because Riz had failed to keep that promise and spilled like a goddamn piping kettle. Ragh clearly felt the same way, his face darkened like the horizon before a storm, and this time there was no biting of his tongue. No almost snap. 

“You know what I’m wondering?” Ragh spoke slowly, like the words took effort to pronounce, and he always spoke that way, but this time there was a definite edge to his tone. Anger, hot and vitriolic. “Who gave you the right to decide whose life is worth what? You guilty? That why you snuck away? Fucking good! My mom could fucking… fucking die because of you! What gives you the right?  _ Why is Fabian’s life worth more than my mom’s?! _ ” 

There is a terribly unique feeling when someone is blaming you for something horrible and you agree with them. The urge is to lash out, but you know that wouldn’t be fair. You would lose the battle because you already know you’re fucking wrong. And there is an absolute helplessness, an inability to do anything because what can you do? You can’t disagree, you can’t agree because that wouldn’t help either -- only make everyone angrier, and you can’t walk away out of sheer  _ respect _ for your ever so correct opponent. Riz stood, rooted to the spot, unable to look away from Ragh no matter how much he wanted to. His ears were plastered flat against his head, his eyes prickling with tears, and he knew he couldn’t cry because how the fuck would that do anything helpful, but an intense guilt had flooded his already guilt-ridden system and he just did not know what to do. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he could manage, quiet as a whisper.

“ ** _You’re_** **_SORRY?!_** ” Ragh bellowed. His eyes flared red as he flew into a rage. Honestly, Riz was astonished and impressed that he had managed to keep it down for this long. “ ** _MY MOM COULD DIE AND YOU’RE FUCKING SORRY?!_** ” 

When it collided with Riz’s temple, Ragh’s fist felt like a sack of bricks. 

Riz went flying into a bookshelf, unsurprising due to how small he was in comparison to Ragh but fucking painful anyway. The wind was knocked forcefully from his chest, and he could feel his right arm and one of his ribs snap immediately on impact, as well as something in his head cave. Shit. The taste of copper was sharp and thick in his mouth. He coughed weakly, and it felt like fire, and he tried to blink up and retrieve his bearings, but he had barely had time to register the pile of wooden and paper rubble underneath him and the towering figure of Ragh above when another blow came raining down on top of him. There was a loud  **_CRACK_ ** , and another surge of pain and dizziness swept over him. 

This was fair, honestly. Riz didn’t want to die, but if Ragh wanted to kill him that was fair. Riz knew well the vicious thirst for vengeance against the killer of a parent, and if Lydia Barkrock died that really was on him. Getting the absolute shit beaten out of him was the least of what he deserved. Ragh drew his fist back again, eyes glowing bright red (red like blood in sunlight, which was a comparison Riz had an excellent basis for as with blood trickling right over his eye he had a pretty clear side-by-side view), and Riz did not so much as lift a hand to ward him away. 

The punch never fell. 

One moment Ragh was standing over Riz -- poised to pummel him out of existence -- and the next his arm had been seized round the wrist and twisted sharply to a halt. Fabian stood behind him, a murderous glare burning in his one eye. 

“Don’t,” he growled crisply “you dare. Touch. Him.” Ragh shook free of his grasp, and whirled around to face him, rage still very much in effect. Fabian dodged his first hit easily, agile as ever, and the second one merely glanced off his shoulder. Ragh did manage to shove him roughly away, however, and once again rounded on Riz. Fabian dived in front of Riz before another strike could hit, and drew his rapier fluidly, held the tip to Ragh’s throat. By now, having heard the commotion, the rest of the party rushed over to find them. Gorgug ran to restrain Ragh along with Tracker and Sandra Lynn, a bewildered look on his face as he did so.

“You better  _ pray _ this is some residual mind control bullshit,” Fabian snarled, digging his sword just a little deeper into Ragh’s clavicle. A couple droplets of crimson blood beaded at the surface of the prick. Kristen let out an appalled little choking noise, and falteringly moved to restrain Fabian as well. He shook her off, and she let him, but lingered close enough to try again should the need arise. Before it could, Riz spoke up, and to his shock Fabian’s entire hostile stance melted away. 

“Fa-bian,” Riz warbled fraily over the syllables and in an instant -- Fabian was shoving past Kristen and dropping to his knees by his side. 

“Are you ok? Jesus Christ, The Ball. What the actual fuck. Can someone  _ PLEASE  _ heal him already?” He sent a sharp look over his shoulder at the rest of the group and they were startled abruptly into action. Kristen stumbled forward and pressed a hand to Riz’s forehead -- cool against his burning skin -- and the pain lessened slightly. 

“That’s all I got, sorry. I really need… I need some sleep and…” she trailed off exhaustion and guilt heavy around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” he replied sincerely, and tried for a smile though he wasn’t sure Kristen had healed him enough for the effect to be anything but gruesome. 

“Would someone mind explaining what the fuck is going on?!” Fig demanded shrilly. Fabian narrowed his eyes at Ragh and said --

“Isn’t obvious? Ragh decided to beat the shit out of The Ball for something he couldn’t fucking help and-”

“I already told you, I could have helped it! This is my fault ok?! I deserved that. I’m  _ fine _ .” He wrenched away as Fabian tried to hold him steady and watch him with a disbelieving and concerned eye. “But this wasn’t- you can let him go. It’s fine. It’s fair. I’m just- I know it isn’t enough Ragh. I really do. I screwed up. I let slip what I shouldn’t have and I tried not to but she saw through me, and I’m just  _ really fucking sorry _ . And I know this doesn’t mean much, but I  _ swear _ I will do everything in my power to keep your mom safe. Speaking of which, Adaine did you get through yet?” Adaine nodded, and Ragh went limp in Gorgug’s grasp. “Ok, call my mom, tell her to get Lydia to safety immediately and have Aguefort put up some protection spells or some shit. I want everyone we know to be at a safehouse protecting her  _ now _ . My mom, Aguefort, Jawbone, the Thistlesprings, and Hallariel, freaking  _ Basrar, _ and teachers; everyone.” He stood, with only a little help from Fabian and locked eyes firmly with Ragh.

“I can’t go back in time and stop myself from saying too much, Ragh. I  _ wish  _ I could but I’m no chronomancer. I fucked up. And all I can do is try to make the situation a little less fucked now.” Ragh dropped his eyes to the floor, and began to cry again, nodding. Riz ached for him, and swallowed down the guilt roiling in his chest. They had a job to do.

He fumbled up the journal from the ground and clutched it to his chest, sparing a glance towards Fabian as he did so. The half-elf was wearing the indecipherable expression again, the one Riz had noticed earlier. Now though, it was a little more prevalent than the guilt and numbness, a little if not much clearer. If Riz didn’t know better, he might have mistaken it for awe. But that was ridiculous, of course, a probable concussion had to be messing with his skills of detection. Afterall, Rosalia Glitterdew had kind of summed it up with her description of Hallariel and herself. Hallariel was possibly the greatest sword-fighter in the world, and she was three feet tall, anxious and full of conspiracies. Fabian and he were the same, and Fabian was a hero, whereas Riz was more a side-kick and grungy detective than anything else. 

What awe could Fabian possibly have with that? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all, I will try to update regularly-ish, and please comment if you enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed. I thrive on angst sometimes and I have a lot more coming. This episode was a goldmine for the stuff. Please comment, I thrive on those too, and have a lovely day!


End file.
